God stood in the Heaven’s garden courtyard,
and lifted his voice
to the lightning storm sky,
white birds would fly,
carrying images of lost souls,
saving them from untold tortures,
small bruises formed where his fingers
had touched his cheek,
spirits would sneak a peek,
as he watches the birds
aiding souls sympathetic to the chains
that pains,
a jolt of compassion shook him,
the skies turned from black to white,
and when darkness once filled the night,
sunshine filled the sky with light,
the white birds had to turn away,
or close their eyes
to prevent their pupils from scorching,
as they took off into the holy skies.